


Cemetery Walk

by Spike_1790



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bad Poetry, POV First Person, Souled Vampire(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 05:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spike_1790/pseuds/Spike_1790
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Souled!Spike's ramblings and poetry in a graveyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cemetery Walk

We walk together, Mother and I,  
Voices muted and quiet breaths,  
Past broken egg shells on the ground  
Testament to new life amongst death.  
  
Into a sea of marble we descend  
Black, white, grey in row on row  
Stark letters stare straight back at us  
Still, with lilies in our hands we go.  
  
I lay one flower on the grave  
Mother watches with a tearful eye  
'It will blow away on the breeze' she says  
'Then let it' is my brief reply  
  
As we leave, we turn to look  
At the white lily dots in a marble sea.  
I've looked but I have never seen  
That lily blowing in the breeze.  
  
Poetry doesn't improve with a soul. Its all just letters and sounds, all tilting, whirling, swirling, twirling like ripped up notes and scribbles they should have covered my headstone in. Now Dru, Dru had it right: 'run and catch, run and catch, the lamb is caught in the blackb'ry patch'. I can run run run as fast as I can but I'll never be an innocent man. And its catch as catch can, ain't it? I caught them, killed them, raped them and they'll chase me forever, haunting, haunting, blank features and grabby hands, telling me I deserve every second; that I deserve it all. They'll do it, y'know; destroy me. When its quiet outside, its so loud in my head, a hundred voices shouting vengeance, that they'll repay me ten-fold what I did to them. A hundred voices backed by a choir of thousands. I did that- killed them and made them mine. We laughed about it at the time, or didn't think about it at all. Its nature, right? Kill or be killed? Survival of the fittest and all that? Just a pathetic mess now. No better than Angelus. How the mighty have fallen. Falling like ashes. Ashes, ashes, dust, dust, we all fall down. We could crawl in this grave together, tied in black leather and be buried forever, just us two. Forever. Out of the way, out of sight….  
  
I could fall into this earth and lie like the heathen gods. I’m a god in spirit if not in flesh. More powerful and exulted than anyone ever dreamed I could be, reaching heights no mortal man ever should. I could be a god, if it were not that I had bad dreams. That’s Shakespeare. Mother used to love the theatre. She’s in here too, barking with the others, mad dogs of hell. Oh, Oedipus… Yeah, I’m a bad man. Should castrate me for the sins I’ve done. Sins of the father… my father… Angelus… I killed fathers. And sons, and wives and mothers and daughters and tiny infants, snatched right from their cribs…  
  
For all my sins I should lie in a hollow grave and let the sunlight take me or earth have me. But that would be too easy by far, and I should stay alive so the dead can make their peace in my sweet torture instead of my ending.  
  



End file.
